


They tasted like family

by alan713ch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Baking, Character Study, Cookies, Family, Gen, Grandparents, Parents, Reflection, alpha/beta relationship, lots of baking, mentions of past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek ended up in the McCall household when Melissa, Scott, Isaac and Stiles were baking cookies. He never thought so many memories would come back to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They tasted like family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphim_grace/gifts).



> Based on the prompt _baking_ by the lovely athenadark. I just fed cookies to the plot bunny. 
> 
> For the sake of brevity, the Sheriff is at work and the girls were out shopping. That's why the are not in this fic. And I believe that Melissa would always bake cookies with Scott and Stiles and this year is the first time Isaac is added to the mix. Scott forced Derek to attend.

There were very few smells in a kitchen that Derek Hale did not associate with the night his family died. Cooking meat? He could smell his parents being charred by the fire. Fire in the stove? He could smell the panels of his home being eaten away by the flames. Sizzling on the pan? He could hear the sparkling twigs of the nearby woods crackling under the stress of the heat expansion. The sweetness of fruit? The decay of Laura's body. The onion cut up and fried in olive oil? The tears he shed when he realized what he had done. The acridity, the sourness, the blackness, the coal, the burnt skin, the -

_Ding!_

Derek opened his eyes to find himself sitting in the McCall kitchen. Melissa (she insisted) was putting a glove on and opening the oven. Isaac and Stiles were discussing frosting colors and the effects on the werewolf metabolism of the use of certain chemical dyes. And Scott was sitting next to him, hand clasped over his, under the table where he had tried to hide his claws coming out. 

During their lives in New York Laura and he had survived out of take-out, restaurants and greasy diners. Their kitchens had always been empty and lifeless. They knew the spirit of their father was probably rolling in his grave, since Randall Hale had been a professional chef, but they just couldn't. Too many memories. Too much guilt. 

But dad never baked. That was Grandma Thea's business (she had taught mom and mom had taught Laura and Laura tried for a while to teach Derek but it was pointless and he never learned) and she was known in Beacon Hills for her cakes and cookies. She had sold the little bakery a while ago, and a lot of people claim that's the reason why they went out of business, but every year she would bake everybody's birthday cakes (his was chocolate decadency, Laura's was carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, Cora's was german bundt cake) and the batch of christmas cookies would always be done on time every morning. 

"Are you OK?"

Scott's voice had been low. He was sure Isaac had heard, but he didn't show it - he pretended to be engrossed in his conversation with Stiles. Melissa had removed the first batch from the baking sheet and was prepping a new one. She said that the trick was to bake them one by one, keeping the sheet on the top rack. Just like grandma used to do. He wanted to say yes, he wanted to nod, he wanted to reassure his alpha that he was alright, that it was nothing, that he could get by as long as he got a good minute to blink back the tears and put his mask on again. 

He couldn't. He couldn't even turn to look him in the eye. 

He felt the lump in his throat and he tried to swallow it and found he couldn't. He tensed more, trying to keep the emotions at bay. 

Scott simply leaned on him, letting his head rest on his shoulder. 

Isaac, nonchalantly, like he didn't even know he was doing it, scooted a chair to the other side of Derek and dumped Stiles on it, grabbing a fourth one and sitting next to Stiles. 

"Why am I sitting next to sourwolf?"

"Shut up, Stiles"

Melissa started humming a song he didn't know while making the frosting. It filled his ears with sweetness. 

He started to breath the new smells. The woods and happiness and strength emanating from Scott. Stiles' resolve and ADD. Isaac's fear, no longer of him but _for him_ , even if he kept him at arms length still. Melissa's resolution, and the vague scent of hospital and _healing_. The wolf in him basked in his alpha's touch and his pack's closeness. He felt his body relax slowly, one or two shudders ("Hey, don't do that, I'm talking!") going through his muscles.

By the time Melissa put the batch of cookies completely decorated in front of them he felt like Derek again, whatever that was. 

He waited for Scott to grab a cookie - he was the alpha after all. 

But Scott just nodded at him, dopey grin and glint eyes. 

So Derek extended his arm and grabbed a cookie. They weren't great like grandma's, or mom's, but they tasted of something he had forgotten. A taste he had buried in the dark but now had come home again. 

They tasted like family.


End file.
